Charlie's Platinum Album
by Mangsy
Summary: A collection of titles from Charlie's Platinum Album. ---[CharlieClaire
1. Track 1 The Monster Eats The Pilot

Author's Notes: So hey, here's that Charlie/Claire fic I told ya I'd do, Candace-chan! This fic, as ongoing as it may be, will be unaffected by the nasty and unhappy looking spoilers for the upcoming episodes. Because fluff rules all. Each chapter will be a oneshot, so please don't leave reviews asking for longer chapters, as they won't come. I don't own any of this, obviously, or Jack would have died sooner, and Boone would be alive. Don't sue.

Enjoy.

**Track #1 – The Monster Eats The Pilot**

Charlie had experienced many different shades of being terrified in his life.

The first time he had been on stage. The screaming crowds and wailing fans was just scary as hell. He remembers sweat dripping of his nose and his fingers slipping across the guitar strings like butter. He remembers the throbbing of his heart pounding in his ears and the adrenaline rush beat by the powder he had sniffed before the show. It was a wonderful kind of terrified.

Charlie remembers when the plane crashed. Buzzing in his ears, the numbness in his head. People screaming, crying. Explosions everywhere. He remembers wandering aimlessly, wondering how he could have survived something like that. It was a blurry kind of terrified.

He remembers running through the rain. The pilot's cries for help and the crimson blood splattered on the glass like finger paint. He remembers the frantic scramble for his life, off the plane and into the jungle like a lightning bolt. The feeling of his feet flying out beneath him and sprawling in the mud. Sheer terror.

But most of all, Charlie remembers Claire's screams. That fateful night that she woke up, pleading for her baby's life. His heart turned ice, someone attacked her. Someone in the camp had attacked her. And his terror had only risen when Jack refused to do anything. When Ethan had attacked them. Charlie couldn't remember being in such a state of terror before. Not like that

So imagine what he felt when he once again awoke to Claire screaming. In the bed spread beside him, sandwiched between him and the crib, she flailed, tears escaping her eyes. In his dazed state, he reached for her arms, rubbing them up and down. He gathered her sobbing form into his arms and whispered into her hair. Eventually she calmed, but still the tears fell.

"It's okay, love, just a nightmare," he whispered, soothing. His fingers tangled in her hair, one hand traced circles on her back.

"It…it was the monster…" she choked, "The monster wanted my baby. Oh Charlie, what if someone wants my baby!"

"Claire, Claire, there's no need to worry," he whispered, pulling her back to look at her, "No one wants your baby!"

"Charlie!" now her voice was shrill. That was bad. Nothing good ever came from a voice that shrill. _Ever._Jack had warned him that sometimes the pregnancy hormones stuck around after childbirth, and that he should watch what he said around her. But it was one in the morning, and Charlie's mouth could not be blamed for listening to his groggy brain. It was then that he realized the direness of his words.

He began to apologize immediately.

"No, no, love! I didn't mean it that way!" he ran a quick hand through his hair, sweat beading on his forehead, his uneasiness mixed with the humid jungle air, "The monster doesn't want your baby! Not that there would be any reason not to, he's just beautiful! Takes after his mum, really," he nodded frantically, "But not me, I want your baby. No worries love!"

Claire stared at him for a moment. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for her scolding words to come. He didn't mean to upset her, he really didn't.

What came next was most unexpected.

She _laughed_. Not a giggle, or a snicker, but a chuckle. A chuckle that turned into a grinning, pretty laugh. The one that Charlie strived to hear. He slowly open his eyes to find her holding her hand over her mouth to stop the laughter from waking the others.

"What, what's so funny?" he asked, utterly confused, "what'd I do?"

"Charlie," she said finally, "You just said you wanted my baby."

His cheeks burned bright red and he averted his eyes. What had he gotten himself into this time?

"Oh bloody _hell_," he muttered bitterly, and Claire continued to laugh, "you must think I'm a sodding lunatic now. A bloody _moron_, I am, I didn't mean it that way, Claire."

"Of course Charlie," she pressed a kiss to his cheek and smiled at him. A great yawn escaped her lips, and Charlie could only stare in awe at how radiant she looked that night. Laying down, she rolled towards him, "Sleep now, come on, you sodding lunatic."

He joined her on the bed roll, pulling the blankets over them, "I'm not going to hear the end of this, am I?" He could feel her giggling through her hair.

"Good night Charlie,"

"Night love."


	2. Track 2 Wave Goodbye To The People On T...

**Track #2 – Wave Goodbye To The People On The Raft, TurnipHead**

It was a momentous day, the day the launched the raft. It had finally stopped raining, the sun was shining, and the ocean was bluer than it had ever been. Hope rode on the waves that swelled in the distance, a hope for a resuce most had long forgotten. The group of castaways followed their little ship up the beach, until it had sailed away into the distance.

All was quiet after that. The excitement of the launching hung thick in the air, though no one really knew what to do. What could they do? It was like their first few days on the island. An uncertain awkwardness fell over the people, and they slowly made their trek up the beach and into the woods to the caves like Jack had told them to.

Claire, however, was not so eager to move from where she stood. Feet lodged firmly in the sand, TurnipHead curled safely in her arms. Charlie stood beside her,

"Wave goodbye to the people on the raft, TurnipHead," he whispered.

"You really think this is going to work, Charlie?" Claire asked. There was a quiver in her voice, and Charlie knew she was uncertain.

"Of course it'll work!" she looked up at him and he realized how fake that sounded. Clearing his throat, he tried again, "I mean, I'm sure they'll find help. Micheal said we should be close to a shipping lane," that didn't help much, "And that thing's built like a bloody rock. Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she stared off into the sea again, shifting TurnipHead in her arms.

"You two coming or not?" It was Sayid. Backpack in tow, he was rounding up the last of the survivors so they could hike up to the caves.

"In a second," Claire brushed him off. Charlie nodded to Sayid a little note of 'I'll take care of this,' and he left.

"You're worried,"it was bothering him, the way she was just standing there, eyes fixed on that invisible place in the distance that he just couldn't seem to pick out.

"What's there to be worried about?" her voice was thick with her accent, "We're stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere, we just put four of our people on a raft in the middle of the ocean, there's a french lady in the woods, and the people who want my baby are coming back," with that last bit, her voice cracked, and TurnipHead started to cry.

"Shh, shh," Charlie scooped the baby out of her arms and began to rock him, "C'mere, love, sit down," she gratefully collasped on the soft sand, knees pulled to her chest. Charlie reached over and brushed a few hairs out of her eyes, "Now, now, no need to cry," he smiled, "The little one worries when his mommy cries," but TurnipHeads wails had ceased.

"Charlie, what happens if no one comes?" she sniffed loudly, "What happens if we're here forever?"

"Then we'll..." he thought about this for a second. Even though he, too, had lost hope for a rescue, the thought of what would happen if they weren't found never crossed his mind. TurnipHead would have to grow up on this island, amongst the ocean and the jungle. Claire would never see her family again, he would never be a rock star. What _would_ the do?

"We'll...well, we'll live," he nodded, an ephiphany settling in,"we'll live. Here, on the island. You, and me, and TurnipHead," she looked up at him again, "And the others, of course." His cheeks burned at his mistake, "Jack will teach him how to read, and Locke will teach him how to hunt. He'll take his first steps in the sand, and play with Walt, and Sayid and Shannon's kid," she was looking out to sea, and he could feel that he was losing her again. He brought a hand to her cheek and brought her view back to his face, "And he'll grow up strong, like his mum."

"I'm not strong, Charlie," she mumbled. TurnipHead took a hold of the finger she was using to stroke the blanket he was wrapped in.

"Claire, sweetheart, you survived a plane crash!" he exclaimed, a little too loudly. He was shocked that she would think something like that, "You were kidnapped, and you came back to me," cough, coverup, "To us! You gave birth in the jungle! And now you're taking care of a little boy, in the middle of nowhere, you can't tell me that you're not strong."

There was a silence. TurnipHead cooed, the waves crashed, and the trees swayed.

"Do you promise?"

He barely heard her the first time.

"Do you promise me, Charlie,"

"Promise you what, love?"

"That we'll live here," she moved her hand from her baby to his, "You and me and TurnipHead?"

Charlie grinned, "Of course, love," and finally, she smiled, "Anything for you,"

Claire seemed a little brighter with this. A little more hopeful. She took the baby from his arms and stood up.

"Now, shall we be off to the caves?" He put an arm around her waist and led her up the beach, "I made you something,"


End file.
